


Bro's Lullaby

by bioloyg



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Angst, Baby Fic, Best friend lydia, Crack, Curses, First Kiss, Fluff, Kid Fic, Lydia is a voice of reason as usual, M/M, Magic Stiles, Obliviousness, Pining, Spark Stiles, Stiles POV, and alpha scott - go figure, deaged!Scott, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 16:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6573754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles paces back and forth in front of the crying, baby-fied, Scott, running his fingers through his hair. This is totally his fault, he knows this, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has no idea what to do with a baby... At all. He can’t call Melissa, that’s completely out of the question. What would he even say to her? <em>Oh, hey Ms. McCall. Just uh, popping in to say I got your son turned into a baby. Sort of. Totally reversible! I think… but uh…</em><br/>Yeah, that’s so out of the question.</p><p>OR</p><p>the baby fic none of you asked for that i wrote anyway</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bro's Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooooo readers.  
> I wrote this because:  
> 1\. I've grown to love baby fics where someone is deaged.  
> 2\. I wanted people subscribed to me to know I was still alive and working on a cool fic >:)  
> 3\. actually publishing things reminds me that I am capable of finishing things, AND  
> 4\. I've hit 3000 kudos which is real cool tbh.  
> Never really thought any of my fics would get some of the attention that they have, so I just wanted to say thanks!
> 
> Anyway, this is unbeta'd. Any and all mistakes are mine. Happy reading :)

It’s too _loud_. Way too loud. There is shit everywhere, both literally and metaphorically, and Stiles is about ten seconds from crying. Not that it would matter since Scott is **wailing** right now!

Stiles paces back and forth in front of the crying, baby-fied, Scott, running his fingers through his hair. This is totally his fault, he knows this, but that doesn’t change the fact that he has no idea what to do with a baby... At all. He can’t call Melissa, that’s completely out of the question. What would he even say to her? _Oh, hey Ms. McCall. Just uh, popping in to say I got your son turned into a baby. Sort of. Totally reversible! I think… but uh…_

Yeah, that’s so out of the question. Stiles already tried Lydia, but she hung up on him. Right after she yelled at him for being an idiot, and an asshole which, _ouch_. But, Stiles kinda deserves it considering it _is_ his fault Scott is like this. This being a very upset two-year-old with an equally upset tummy and very _very_ particular taste in food.

It’s not going well to say the least, and saying anything more than that would get Stiles maimed. He’s halfway through his sixth lap around the kitchen table when he gets an idea. It’s not one he particularly cares for, and it will most likely involve groveling, but it’s also the only chance Stiles has to save himself from death by tears. Seriously, Scott is bawling like there’s no tomorrow, Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he drowned.

Stiles groans and drags a hand down his face before steeling himself for the phone call of the century. It dials three times before Stiles gets a gruff, “ _Hello?_ ”

“Heyyy, Derek,” Stiles says cheerily as he steps out onto the balcony of his apartment. It’s one part for his sanity and another part to muffle the crying.

“ _What did you do?_ ” Derek asks. It’s like he has a sixth sense for when Stiles fucks shit up.

Stiles frowns. “Hey, I resent that. Who says I’m calling just because I did something?”

Derek lets out a dry laugh. “ _Because that’s the only time you call me._ ”

“Uh, that’s not true, and even if it were – kettle, pot.”

“ _Stiles,_ ” Derek interrupts, “ _What is it?_ ”

Stiles lets out a shaky breath. “I know you hate cancelling trips but… I’m pregnant.”

“ _I’m hanging up._ ”

“No, no wait!” Stiles yells. “Please, I – I need your help. Badly. I am dying right now.”

The line is silent for a moment, and then, “ _What happened? Where are you? Where’s Scott, I thought –?_ ”

“Whoa, easy there, don’t have an aneurysm. I didn’t mean that literally.”

Derek grumbles, “ _Your heart didn’t skip_.”

“That’s because a part of me _is_ dying. My sanity. Listen just – don’t laugh.”

“ _I doubt whatever you’re going to say next will be funny._ ”

Stiles laughs nervously. “Yeah, well uh – Scott is a baby.”

Derek snorts. “ _Tell me something I don’t know._ ”

Stiles scowls at the phone. “Uh, rude. I’m being serious. He’s **literally** a baby. Grubby fingers and all.”

“ _Stiles…_ ” Derek begins slowly, “ ** _That’s_** _who’s crying in the background? I thought it was your neighbor’s cat again._ ”

“I wish,” Stiles replies on the tail end of a sigh. “He just keeps screaming. It’s _insane_.”

“ _You have **got** to be kidding me,_ ” Derek mutters under his breath.

Stiles opens the balcony door again, only to be greeted with a very angry, wolfed out Scott who promptly throws his sippy cup. It hits Stiles in the shin. Looking up at the ceiling, Stiles says, “I’m really not.”

“ _How?_ ” Derek prods angrily.

“You want the full story or the abridged version?” Stiles asks as he moves to the kitchen to get Scott some dry cereal. He’s hoping that’ll calm Scott, or at the very least help his upset tummy.

“ _Abridged._ ”

“A witch cursed him,” Stiles answers as he balances the phone between his ear and shoulder. He grabs a box of Reese’s Puffs from the cabinet and peeks back around the corner at Scott. The toddler has quieted a bit, his once steady stream of tears now only a subtle hiccup every once in a while.

Derek takes a sharp breath inward, but no reply comes from him for a minute. Stiles almost thinks Derek hung up when he finally hears, “ _How? That sounds like something that should’ve happened to you. Why did she curse **Scott**?_ ”

Stiles grimaces. “See, the thing about that is… Well, um, what happened was –”

“ _Spit it out_ ,” Derek orders.

“I might have ducked because I saw it coming and it may or may not have hit Scott instead?” Stiles blurts all at once.

“ _You **dumbass**._ ”

“I know, I know!” Stiles rests his forehead on the kitchen wall. “Trust me, I _know_ this is my fault. I just – I need help.”

“ _And you called me?_ ”

Stiles groans while rolling his eyes. “That should tell you how desperate I am.”

“ _Why didn’t you ask Lydia, or better yet, Scott’s **mother**?”_

He almost drops the phone right then and there. “You think I _didn’t_? Lydia refuses to help because she knows it’s my fault, and I can’t tell Scott’s mom! She’ll kill me, or worse, tell my dad!”

“ _What about Kira?_ ” Derek wonders, as if she’s a better option.

Stiles lets out a humorless chuckle. “Dude, she’s ten times more nervous around babies than I am. That’s just asking for a blackout. And besides, Scott would kill me if I ever let his _girlfriend_ change his diapers. Bro code, man.”

“ _What did Deaton say?_ ”

After letting out a childish noise of distaste Stiles lifts his head off the wall and says, “What do you think? He spouted some cryptic mumbo jumbo about wrongs being righted and unity and some other BS, and when I told him to cut to the chase he said everything would go back to normal by the week’s end.”

Derek lets out a pained sigh and Stiles can almost see the way Derek’s brows are probably furrowed right now. “ _Have you tried undoing the curse yourself?_ ”

“Oh gee, I would’ve never thought to try that. Why don’t I go do that right now? _Oh wait_ , I **did** try. My spark is being incredibly unreliable right now, either that or it _can’t_ be undone by me.”

“ _You’re not very good at this, are you?_ ”

And – that stings a little, which is doing no favors for Stiles’ already bruised ego. The spark bites back an even uglier comment about glass houses and says, “Y’know what, forget it. I can handle this on my own. Enjoy your drive up to Oregon, Derek.”

“ _Wait. Stiles that’s not –_ ”

Stiles hangs up before Derek can finish his sentence. After a few minutes to collect himself, he heads back out to the living room. Scott is – thankfully – out cold in the bottom of the playpen Stiles bought earlier today. Along with a car seat, of course. That’s $150 he’ll never see again. He can still see the cashier’s apologetic grin when he closes his eyes.

Sighing, Stiles sets the box of cereal down on the coffee table and gathers up some of the mess Scott made when he was running around earlier. Werebabies are a force to be reckoned with. Stiles wonders how Derek’s mom did it, which only makes him sad, and then angry because Derek is a little bit of an asshole. Even though he was right.

He hates that Derek was right.

This whole spark thing hasn’t been easy. And Stiles already has enough skeletons in his closet manning the _Stiles is awful_ cheerleading team, so he doesn’t need anyone else to join in. It only makes it harder to believe in himself, which is somehow the foundation of his magic. Belief in himself. Go figure, the one thing Stiles is awful at just so happens to be the key to his magical success.

When Stiles is finished cleaning, and moping, he sends another text to Lydia begging her to help before he falls asleep.

~

Stiles is startled awake by the sound of knocking on his front door, as is Scott. Stiles gets a glimpse of bright red baby werewolf eyes right before Scott starts crying again. He’s going to maim whoever is on the other side of that door, or give them the bill from his doctor’s appointment because Scott is _shrill_.

As Stiles trudges to the door, at the demand of more insistent knocking, he remembers that text he sent to Lydia. His spirits are almost instantly lifted, and he opens the door with a gasp of, “Oh thank _god_ you – **you**?”

Derek stands awkwardly on the other side of the door, and any other day Stiles’ heart would flutter, but right now he’s just irritated. “What are _you_ doing here?”

The wolf steps forward a bit and Stiles notices the bags in one of his hands. “You said you needed help, so I –”

“It’s fine,” Stiles buts in, his voice flat. “You didn’t need to come over; I’ve got it under control.”

Derek lets out a huff and then looks around Stiles toward Scott. The very same Scott who’s crying in the playpen – the playpen that is now shredded because of Scott’s claws. Derek looks back at Stiles and lifts an eyebrow as if to say, _Do you **really** have it under control?_

“Oh, what do you want a ‘my name’s Derek Hale and I’m always right’ medal?” Stiles snaps.

Holding up the plastic bags, Derek says, “I brought you some things for Scott.”

All at once the room goes still. Scott hones in on Derek immediately and lifts his head, sniffing not so surreptitiously. His eyes flash again and then he screams, positively giddy, “ALPHA!”

Stiles’ jaw drops. Scott hasn’t smiled at him _once_ this whole time and now he’s making grabby hands at Derek like he’s the sun and the moon. It hurts.

Stiles practically squawks, “Are you **kidding** me!? You didn’t even want him to be your alpha! Oh, I am _so_ never letting you live this down Scott Andrew McCall.”

Scott’s face falls and his lip quivers. The pouty face was bad enough when Scott was 23, and as a two-year-old it’s infinitely worse. Stiles lets out a long, suffering sigh and pushes the door open the rest of the way. “Fine. Derek, you can come in.”

The wolf looks Stiles over, something a little bit sad in his eyes, and steps inside. Stiles doesn’t have the energy to figure out what it is for once, so instead he says, a tad bitterly, “He won’t let me give him a bath and he refuses to eat any of the baby food I got him, so if you have any idea how to fix that your advice would be _greatly_ appreciated.”

Derek nods and sets his bags down on the dining room table before shrugging his coat off. Stiles sets his jaw and determinedly looks away. Of course Derek had to wear a tight black shirt and nice jeans that leave absolutely nothing to the imagination, he _was_ going to a meeting for Established Alpha Werewolves™ from the West Coast. Speaking of which…

“You’re going to be late for your Alpha convention if you don’t leave in two hours,” Stiles points out as he takes the bags Derek brought into the kitchen. There’s baby medicine, a teething toy, some snacks, more diapers (thank god), and a few pop-up books, as well as some other things. Something about the items makes Stiles’ heart ache, so he sets them aside and leaves the room.

When he gets back to the living room Derek has Scott in his lap. Scott looks absolutely thrilled by the development as he pats at Derek excitedly, flashing his eyes. Derek flashes his eyes once in return and Scott screams, “Again!” before dissolving into a fit of giggles when Derek tickles him.

Derek’s face softens and a smile tugs at his lips. He turns to Stiles, and while a bit distracted, says, “It’s okay, I let them know I couldn’t make it because something came up.”

“Something came up,” Stiles echoes, a bit confused by everything going on in his apartment. He snaps himself out of it to say, “Uh, isn’t that a sign of weakness? Shouldn’t you at least go for the first day and _then_ leave or something?”

Derek lets out a deep breath and then cradles Scott in his arms before standing. “It’d be worse if someone found out Beacon Hills didn’t have an Alpha protecting the area.”

Stiles closes his eyes for a moment and says, “Right.” Something else must be showing on his face because Derek’s got that sad look in his eyes again. Stiles avoids making eye contact after that and says, “I think I’m gonna go to the store and pick up some milk. Pretty sure I’m out or something.”

“Okay,” Derek replies easily. Stiles knows it’s a flimsy excuse, and that his heart skipped, but he needs a moment to himself. He’s thankful Derek doesn’t call him out on it.

~

Two hours later and empty handed, Stiles walks back into his apartment. Most of the lights are off, leaving the dining and living room dim, but the kitchen is bright and filled with noise. Stiles locks the door behind himself and sets his things down before heading to the kitchen.

Derek is quite the picture, standing at the sink doing dishes while humming lullabies to Scott, using one of his feet to gently rock the little chair Scott is in. Stiles’ breath catches in his throat as some nameless emotion tugs at his chest again. The pain of it is not much unlike that of the darkness on his heart, although it’s in a brighter way. It feels a little like happiness or hope, but not quite either of those.

Stiles can’t say how long he stands in the doorway to the kitchen, only that when Derek turns to him his heart stutters. He can’t even bring himself to be mad about it. If anything he’s sad. Derek’s family used to be so big, and Stiles can tell just how much Derek longs for a family sometimes. He sees it in the way Derek lingers just a little too long on certain items at the store, how he lights up whenever a baby smiles at him in passing. And here Derek is, in his kitchen doing dishes while comforting baby Scott, all of it secondhand nature almost. As natural as breathing.

“Hey,” Derek greets him, voice low and soft once again, snapping Stiles out of his haze.

“Hi,” Stiles answers. He looks down at Scott and smiles and then back up at the wolf. “I uh – I didn’t get any milk.”

A smirk crosses Derek’s face. “Don’t worry about it. You have a gallon in the fridge.”

“Ah, good,” Stiles says before clearing his throat. “Did Scott eat?”

Derek’s face goes gentle again as he looks down at the toddler. “Yeah. He had a bath too. Isn’t that right, Scott?”

Scott smiles and says, “Baf!” before looking at Stiles and repeating it happily.

Stiles about melts into a puddle. He grins back at Scott and says, “I bet you smell so pretty now. Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” Scott answers, voice sweet and slurred just a tiny bit by sleepiness. He yawns, a sound that ends in a high-pitched chirp, and then holds his hands out. “Up. Wan go up.”

Derek bends down to scoop Scott into his arms but he makes a face at the wolf and says, “Nooo. ‘Tiles. ‘Tiles up.”

Stiles’ heart skips a beat as both Scott and Derek look up at him. He’s frozen for all of thirty seconds before he steps into the kitchen and picks Scott up. The toddler buries his face in Stiles’ neck and sighs contentedly. “Seepy.”

“I think it might be bed time,” Stiles says sagely as he rubs Scott’s back. He sways side to side just a bit to soothe the toddler, and when he looks back up Derek’s eyes are a bit wide. “What is it? Did I get something on me?”

“No,” Derek says quickly. “No, it’s just – he should probably go to bed.”

Stiles’ brow furrows. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a bit. Thanks – for getting him settled.”

“Yeah.” Derek sighs before looking away again.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something else, but he closes it at the last second and turns around to bring Scott to his bed. If puppy piles are as popular as they are with everyone in the pack being adults he can only imagine how important they are to baby werewolves.

As soon as he sets Scott down, the toddler frowns. Stiles sits down beside him and brushes away the scowl with a hand over Scott’s messy curls and says, “You can sleep in my bed, okay?”

Scott opens his mouth to reply but yawns instead. After a moment he wriggles his nose and tries again. “Wanna song.”

“A song?”

Scott nods. “Alpha gamme a song.”

“He sang to you?” Stiles asks dumbly before looking back out of his room. “You want _me_ to sing to you?”

“Yes pease.” Scott snuffles as he smushes his face in Stiles’ pillow.

Stiles looks back down at Scott. “I’m not very good at singing.”

“Mhmm,” Scott mumbles tiredly, but sure. “Nice voice. Pwetty voice.”

Stiles’ chest goes hot, as does his face. Apparently Scott’s memories haven’t faded despite the deaging. You sing in the locker room shower _one time_ and suddenly you can never live it down.

Rubbing a hand over Scott’s head once again, Stiles decides to sing a lullaby his mom used to sing when he was sick. He tweaks it a little bit, much to Scott’s enjoyment.

“ _My Scottie lies over the ocean_

_My Scottie lies over the sea_

_My Scottie lies over the ocean_

_O’ bring back my Scottie to me…_ ”

Scott smiles and shuffles further into the mound of pillows as Stiles continues.

“ _Bring back, O’ bring back_

_Bring back my Scottie to me, to me_

_Bring back, O’ bring back,_

_Bring back my Scottie to me._ ”

Stiles slowly extricates himself from the bed, finishing with,

“ _Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_Last night as I lay on my bed,_

_Last night as I lay on my pillow_

_I dreamt that my Scottie was there._ ”

Stiles lets out a small huff and turns to leave, finding Derek standing in the doorway. He startles and then closes his eyes before whispering, “How long were you standing there?”

He meets Derek’s eyes just as the wolf replies, “Pretty voice.”

Stiles’ face goes red all over again as he shoos Derek from the doorway, “Yeah, yeah. I don’t want to hear it.”

Once they get to the living room Stiles flops onto the couch and puts his feet up on the table. Derek doesn’t join him, instead he lingers off to the side with his hands behind his back. Stiles looks up at him and scrunches his eyebrows, then a wave of understanding crashes over him and he says, “Oh, you don’t have to worry about staying here the rest of the week if that’s what you’re all,” Stiles gestures to Derek’s face, “– about. Now that Scott’s calm I’m good, so we won’t create that ridiculous feedback loop we had going earlier. Y’know, chemosignals and all that jazz.”

A smile creeps across Derek’s lips and he ducks his head, shaking it a bit. “No that’s – it’s not that. About what I said earlier…”

Stiles’ chest tenses. He clears his throat. “Don’t worry about it. You were right.”

“No,” Derek says immediately, voice quiet but adamant. “When I said – I meant you’re bad at asking for help, not that you’re bad at magic.”

“You’re one to talk,” Stiles mutters before rolling his eyes. “And I _am_ bad at this spark shit. I thought it would get easier with time, but the only thing I can consistently do is cast a mountain ash circle.” He lets out a long sigh. “It is what it is, I guess.”

Derek’s jaw goes tense and he comes closer, still standing. “You tend to work best under pressure, or with things that are important.”

“And turning Scott back into an adult isn’t important?” Stiles counters as he crosses his arm over his chest.

Derek scowls at him and sits on the arm of the couch. “It’s something you don’t have practice with. Something you’ve never dealt with. It’s hard to believe in something you know nothing about.”

Stiles opens his mouth but finds he has nothing to argue. His heart flutters in his chest and he finds himself scrubbing a hand over the area to calm it. When Derek looks at him, waiting for a response, Stiles mumbles, “Yeah I – yeah. Thanks.”

The wolf nods once and gets up. “I’m gonna go finish up in the kitchen.”

“You don’t have to. Really, it was a disaster _before_ Scott was a baby, so.”

Derek shakes his head again, silently amused by something. “It’s fine Stiles. Get some rest.”

~

“Lydia, _open the door_!” Stiles bangs his fist against the freshly lacquered oak door. He knows if he gets loud enough Lydia will come outside to scold him at the very least.

He’s right. She whips the door open and stares daggers into his very soul. “ ** _What_** _?_ ”

Stiles lets out a loud sigh and brushes past her into the foyer; he completely misses the look of shock that crosses Lydia’s face. “I need a place to stay for the next two hours or I’m going to lose it.”

“You’ve _already_ lost it,” she primly reminds him, her gaze icy. “What are you doing here?”

Scowling, Stiles says, “Since _somebody_ didn’t want to help me with baby Scott I had to call Derek.”

“And?”

“ _And_ ,” Stiles carries on after sucking in an exaggerated breath, “I can’t take it! At first Scott was a complete nightmare, but now he’s putty. He’s a bouncy ball of sunshine with an adorable head of curls and tiny werebaby teeth.”

Lydia rolls her eyes and closes her door, accepting defeat for this round. “You’re being dramatic. How is any of that bad, exactly?”

“Because Derek!”

“Oh, because Derek,” Lydia repeats solemnly. She levels Stiles with a blank look and asks again, “What. Are. You. Doing here?”

Stiles groans and sinks down onto the staircase in the main hall. “I need a break from Derek. He’s so – _so_ ,” he sighs and leans his head back until it makes contact with one of the stairs. “Do you know what he did this morning?”

Lydia takes a deep breath and then crosses her arms before cocking her hip out slightly. “No, I don’t.”

Sitting up again, Stiles says, “He came into my room, shirtless I might add, and woke me so that he could get Scott. When I told him I could get breakfast because he made Scott dinner last night he said, ‘You can make it up to me later.’ What am I supposed to do with that, huh? And then, when I had the wherewithal to drag my ass to the kitchen he made _me_ breakfast.”

“Again,” Lydia starts slowly, as if talking to a scared animal. “How is any of what you just said _bad_?”

Stiles lets out a pathetic sound and covers his face with his hands. It muffles his words. “He’s so fluffy, Lyds. So fluffy. I’ve never seen Derek smile so much. Seriously, he’s surpassed his total smile count for this past six months in the last five hours alone.” He moves his hands and turns to Lydia. “And every time he looks at me while he’s holding Scott my heart melts and aches all at once. He used Scott’s hand to wave at me. I’m gonna die.”

Something like amusement and fond irritation crosses Lydia’s face before she says, “Stiles.”

“What?” he asks after sighing again.

“You’re an idiot.” When he opens his mouth to debate she puts a hand up and says, “Listen.” She waits until he closes his mouth again, ignores the way he petulantly crosses his arms, and then says, “Go back home. Help Derek with Scott. There’s more than one reason to smile Stiles, and Scott isn’t every single one of them, I assure you.”

Stiles’ eyebrows fall and he lets out a long breath. He shakes his head and then turns toward the bannister. “I need a minute to get my thoughts in order. If Scott wasn’t a baby right now I’d be at his house, but he is, so – ugh. I – I don’t want to stink up the apartment with my stupid feelings while Derek is being helpful.”

Lydia’s answering sigh has Stiles turning to face her. She raises an eyebrow at him and looks at the door, then back to him. “Fine, you get five minutes – even though you’re being ridiculous.”

Stiles beams at her as she turns and walks away. “Thank you Lydia, I love youuuu.”

“I know you do,” she says, exasperated, as she turns the corner.

~

As soon as Stiles steps into his apartment he senses that something is… off. None of the lights are on, not that they need to be at this hour – but still, and it’s eerily quiet. He slowly closes the door behind himself, careful not to make a sound, and grabs one of the umbrellas he has resting by the door. It’s not the best weapon, but that’s why they’re called weapons of convenience. They’re _convenient_ , not practical.

Stiles does a sweep of the kitchen and then makes his way toward the living room. He’s just about to enter it when –

“RAH!”

Stiles yelps as the foreign entity comes in contact with his leg. He’s halfway to launching whatever it is off his foot when he looks down at – little red eyes. Stiles lets out a low groan of relief and drops his umbrella. “Geez, little guy. You scared the fu...uuudge out of me.”

Scott bares his teeth in an excited, and somehow predatory, smile and asks, “M’a good hunter?”

“You’re the _best_ hunter,” Stiles says as he bends down to pick Scott up. He scrubs a hand through the toddler’s hair and then lightly tugs at one of his pointed ears. “Where’s Derek?”

“ _Boo_.”

After a very sharp inhale Stiles turns in the direction of the voice and hisses, “You’re not funny.”

Derek jerks his chin toward Scott. “He thinks so.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “He’s two.”

Scott looks at Stiles and brings up a tiny clawed hand. “Alpha showeded me pounce.” The toddler flexes his fingers while babbling, “Rah, rawr, grrr.”

Stiles closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly, smile playing at his lips. He presses his nose to Scott’s temple before taking a deep breath and saying, “Gotta be careful with those, Scottie. You need a little more practice before you can use ‘em.”

Scott nods with wide eyes. “Alpha said ‘mergencies only.”

“Exactly,” Stiles agrees, pressing his forehead to Scott’s. When Stiles looks up Derek is staring, and even though his mouth is relatively flat his eyes are wrinkled at the corners as if he were smiling. Stiles lets out a short breath. “Did you guys have fun while I was gone?”

Scott nods again, face brightening, and Derek does smile then. The wolf brings a hand to Scott’s curls and says, “We had play time, and Scott worked on his control.”

Stiles looks back down at Scott and readjusts him on his hip. “How’d you do?”

Scott’s claws retract and his ears flatten out, though the display of control only lasts about ten seconds before Scott fangs out and giggles. Stiles huffs amusedly and looks back at Derek. “He’s already better than you.”

Derek shoots Stiles a look, but quickly masks it when Scott gasps excitedly and says, “M’as good as Alpha?”

Stiles lifts an eyebrow at Derek and intones, “Is he as good as you, _Alpha_?”

After a long pause, and a blink-and-you-miss-it flash of red in his eyes, Derek replies, “Better.”

Scott grins from ear to ear and his bottom canines stick out over his lip. He reaches toward Derek, but says, “You can carry me later ‘Tiles.”

“Of course,” Stiles mumbles as he hands the toddler to Derek. He kisses Scott on the forehead before he does though.

The toddler relishes the affection and then orders, “Now Alpha,” in a voice that’s oddly intense for a two-year-old.

Stiles almost misses the way Derek’s ears turn pink at the top. He narrows his eyes at the wolf and then turns back to Scott. “You want me to kiss Derek’s forehead?”

Scott nods and says, “Pack,” as if that explains everything.

“Mm,” Stiles pauses, choosing his words wisely so as not to upset Scott, or give himself away. “I don’t think Alpha wants a kiss right now.”

“Mhmm.” Scott pats Derek’s cheek with his tiny (human again) hand. “Alpha likes ‘Tiles.”

Stiles laughs, earning himself a menacing glare from Derek. He points to Derek’s face and says, “He looks a little grumpy right now. How ‘bout you give him a kiss?”

Scott lets out a tiny sigh, as if thinking about it. He looks at Derek again and then leans in to plant a very loud and wet kiss on Derek’s cheek. Derek’s eyes widen and his cheeks burn pink under his beard, but before he can do anything else, Scott says, “Happy, happy,” and shoves his face right into Derek’s neck.

Now, any other day Stiles would’ve laughed at something like this. He probably would have pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, or mocked Derek for having feelings. But, Derek looks so startled by the display of affection that something twists in Stiles’ gut. Sometimes he forgets how tactile werewolves are, and how often Derek quarantines himself from reassuring touches. Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but rethinks it at the last second when Derek looks at him again. He offers up a weak smile and brushes his hand over Derek’s arm.

The wolf shivers beneath Stiles’ touch, and just as he does Scott says, “Alpha missed ‘Tiles.”

Stiles’ heart skips as Derek’s kaleidoscope eyes bore into his soul – or at least it feels like that’s what they’re doing – and he clears his throat. He looks away for a moment and rubs a hand over the back of his neck before saying, “Well, ‘Tiles missed you guys too.” He runs his hand up through his hair and over his face before sighing. “Are you guys hungry?”

Derek nods, face a neutral mask once again, and Scott yells, “Gill cheese!”

“Alright, buddy. I will make you the best grilled cheese ever, but only if you eat some fruit with it, okay?”

“ _Awww._ ”

Derek looks down at Scott and offers up, “Apples or a pear?”

Scott makes a face and sticks out his tongue, clearly displeased, so Stiles adds, “I have grapes. You can poke ‘em with a fork if you want.”

The toddler looks back at Derek for approval. The wolf sighs before capitulating. “Okay, grapes it is. But you have to eat all of them.”

Scott beams at Derek, all of his tiny teeth – both human and wolf – on display. Fifteen minutes later he has grapes stuck to his canines.

~

Stiles is scrubbing one of the pans from dinner when Derek makes his way back to the kitchen. He stands beside Stiles, back pressed against the counter, and crosses his arms. He’s the perfect picture of soft. His hair is a little messy, his grey henley is worn, and his smile is comfortably small. Stiles doesn’t even realize he’s staring until water begins to pour over the edge of the now heavy pan. He turns back to the sink and clears his throat. “Scott in bed?”

Derek nods, looking back in the direction of the room. “He’s already asleep.”

Stiles sighs and puts the pan back on the stove when he’s finished, ignoring the small ring of water it leaves beneath it. He shuts off the water and dries his hands on a questionably clean towel that’s hung by the stove and quietly says, “You’re good with him – he really loves you.”

It catches Derek off guard, but whether it was the casual nature of the statement or something else, Stiles isn’t sure. He does know he said the word love, but it’s true. Children tend to be a wealth of affection when treated with love and respect, and Derek has surpassed any and all expectations Stiles might’ve had in that regard.

The moment of shock passes and Derek looks down, visibly vulnerable. “Children love apex predators.”

Stiles snorts. He’s well aware that children have the utmost respect for the big baddies of the animal kingdom, but that’s not what this is, and Derek is deflecting. “Yeah, _but_ that’s not it. You’re like his guide; he really looks up to you.”

Derek lifts his head up, one of his eyebrows raised. “All it took was a curse and for him to be reverted back to his simplest of instincts.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you and Scott weren’t on the best of terms in the beginning –”

“‘Weren’t on the best of terms.’ That’s one way of putting it.”

“Dude, shut up,” Stiles huffs. He levers himself onto the counter and presses Derek with a look. “You and Scott are like brothers now. Just because he hasn’t explicitly said he respects you doesn’t mean it’s not true. And you’re missing the point, I wasn’t –” a sigh, “I was just _saying_ you’ve adapted to this situation pretty well. Better than I expected.”

The wolf smirks. “Can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh, ha ha, you’re so funny,” Stiles intones before sticking out his tongue. “Remind me again why I called you?”

“Because you always call me when shit hits the fan,” Derek says with a sigh. It’s more resigned than upset.

Stiles’ eyebrows fall. “No, I call you because you’re _reliable_.” He shakes his head.

Stiles knows it’ll be a cold day in hell before he can ever get Derek to realize that he’s valuable for more reasons than his strength or healing factor. Part of that’s his fault, Stiles has never been all that great at doling out complements without making them backhanded, intentional or not. And, his relationship with Derek had been mildly antagonistic up until a few years ago.

But, when Stiles’ view of Derek changed, it **_really_** changed. We’re talking paradigm shift. Stiles stopped seeing Derek as a battle machine with only two emotional settings: angry and pissy, and began to see his redeeming qualities. Derek’s strength despite all odds, his quiet but sure love for his pack, his determination, and on occasion – his eye for strategy. He’s become a lot more than a pretty face or a last resort. He’s someone Stiles can count on more often than not, and someone that gets the reasons why Stiles sleeps with the lights on sometimes, or why Stiles doesn’t go to visit Allison’s grave with Scott.

The spark rubs a hand over his face and scoots off the counter, heading toward the other room. Derek watches him for a moment, silently contemplating something, and then echoes, “Reliable,” as if trying out the descriptor.

Stiles pauses in the doorway and turns slightly, not quite facing the wolf. His voice is soft when he says, “Yeah. No matter what stupid shit I get myself into you’re always there. Even when I probably didn’t deserve it.” Derek’s face morphs into something like surprise, and maybe even a little disagreement, but Stiles doesn’t let him press the statement. Instead he quickly covers the space with, “Anyway, thanks for getting Scott into bed. I’m gonna go shower and hit the hay.”

Stiles misses the way Derek opens his mouth to reply, to answer with some word of thanks or – or _something_. He misses the way Derek’s jaw clenches when he doesn’t say anything at all.

~

“What is it now?” Lydia wonders idly, not even looking up from her phone as Stiles plops down into the chair across from her.

 He takes a long sip of his slightly-too-warm coffee. The burn of it wakes him up just as much as the caffeine. He picks at the cardboard sleeve after a few seconds of silence. “How wrong is it that I want Scott to stay a baby a little bit longer?”

Lydia does look up then. Her eyebrows rise slowly as she pieces something together. They slowly fall as her eyes narrow when she answers, “Very.”

Stiles lets out a mournful sigh. “Yeah.”

“I thought you didn’t like playing house with Derek,” Lydia reminds him.

“I don’t,” Stiles readily replies. “I want the real thing. Kind of.” He scowls and takes another swig of his coffee. He contemplates the consequences of finding some Bailey’s to add to it. It’s only ten a.m. and he has work. “I mean – I’m too young to do the whole parent thing, but I want some of the other parts. The living together, trading chores, waking up to eat breakfast together.”

Lydia closes her eyes, most likely gathering the last vestiges of her patience. When she opens them again, her green gaze is sharp. “You _know_ that you’re the only one standing in your way, right?”

Stiles lolls his head to look at her and makes a face. Scott calls it his judgey face. “Yeah, it’s not like Derek is uninterested in 1. dating and 2. me. Oh, and lets not forget about the epic trust issues he’s still carrying around like Atlas.” Stiles snorts and looks up at the ceiling. “ _I’m_ the only thing in my way. Tsh. Yeah right.”

The banshee leans forward and rests her arms on the coffee shop table. She hasn’t even opened her mouth yet and somehow she’s already unfathomably condescending. “Who does Derek ask for advice?”

Stiles looks back down and raises an eyebrow. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Answer the question,” Lydia says, patient but stern.

“Deaton? Or me, I guess.”

“Okay,” Lydia answers, drawing out the A a bit. “Who does Derek call when he’s in trouble?”

Stiles scrunches his face up. “Me or Scott. What does this –”

“I’m not finished,” she informs him coolly. “Who does Derek take with him on stakeouts, to important conferences, on _errands_?”

He sees where this is going. “Lyds, two of those are because I’m the de facto emissary.”

She holds up a hand. “Who did Derek tell about what happened with Kate?” Stiles’ face screws up and his stomach twists, but Lydia keeps going. “And who’s calls does he answer no matter what; who does he drop plans for when they’re in trouble?”

“I get it,” Stiles grumbles.

“I don’t think you do,” Lydia states, tone mildly patronizing. “If you did we wouldn’t be having this conversation”

Stiles lets out a dry laugh. “Interrogation is more like it.”

Lydia shoots him a look that shuts him up. “You’re the common denominator in a lot of aspects of Derek’s life. Now, whether that’s by design or out of convenience I can’t say. But, I have seen the way he looks at you, and I know you’re the only person he holds regular conversations with.”

“How exactly does that help me here? You do know there’s a difference between friendship and romantic attraction, right?”

“Stiles, stop being obtuse.” Lydia brushes her hair over her shoulder gently and leans back in her chair. “He’s staying at your house to help you with Scott when you could easily be trading off. Do you think he would do that for any of _us_?”

He opens his mouth to protest, to say _of course he would, he’d do anything for pack_ , but he realizes that doesn’t mean Derek would be the on-call nanny. He’d either take the whole of the responsibility or let them learn their lesson – as he has readily done before. Even barring all of that, it’s very rare for Derek to sleep outside of the comfort, safety, and familiarity of his own home. Then again, he and Stiles are in each other’s houses enough that the lines are a little muddy.

He shuts his mouth and closes his eyes while his world spins a little faster than normal.

Lydia smirks and takes her latte in hand. “ _Now_ you’re getting it.”

~

Despite all that Lydia said, and all that he knows, doubt still creeps in on Stiles. It’s easy to fall back into the safety net of denial. There’s no way you can get hurt there. Sadly, the net doesn’t really protect you from yourself.

Stiles watches as Derek gives Scott a bubble bath. The wolf looks lighter, his shoulders less tense, as if he’s the one being lavished with bubbles right now. He watches as Derek smiles and helps Scott put his hair in a mohawk and wonders how he ever missed the fact that this side of Derek existed. Wonders if _he_ could ever bring it out.

Sure, he and Derek have joked around and they’ve laughed, but this is different. This is something settled and calm. Stiles aches all over just thinking about the pressure of being good enough for someone like Derek, both this lighter, happier version _and_ the guarded one. Stiles barely believes in himself. How could he believe that Derek would want him that way?

“‘Tiles, you smell bad.”

Stiles startles from his thoughts and pushes himself off the doorframe. “I… smell bad?”

Derek hones in on Stiles then, subtly smelling him. A frisson of concern cracks its way through the wolf’s smile. He and Stiles exchange glances, but Scott doesn’t key in on the silent conversation. The toddler says, “You smell sad. You need a baf,” and he holds out some bubbles to Stiles.

Stiles breaks away from Derek’s gaze and lets a sharp breath out of his nose. He steps forward and takes the handful of bubbles and says, “Oh, I’m not sad. I’m just thinking.”

Derek scowls the moment he hears Stiles’ heat skip a beat, but says nothing. Scott is quick to fill the silence again, saying, “Alpha needs a baf too.”

The wolf looks down, startled. “I took one this morning.”

Scott shakes his head and slaps bubbles onto Derek’s clothed leg. “Smell sad,” Scott says knowingly with a shake of his head.

Stiles looks back at Derek and raises his eyebrows. “He’s a very perceptive two-year-old.”

“Wish he had been this observant in high school,” Derek mutters as he takes a mound of bubbles and shapes them into a beard on Scott’s face.

Stiles laughs. The contrast between Derek’s concentrated frown and Scott’s excited eyes and bubble beard is a little too stark for the situation. Derek turns back to him, but before Stiles can get a word in the wolf shoves a handful of bubbles into his face.

“Hey!” Stiles sputters as he brushes them away. Scott has already dissolved into a fit of giggles and Derek looks a little too smug. Stiles narrows his eyes. He knows that Derek knows what he’s going to do next. He can see it in the wolf’s suddenly wide eyes and the way he glances at the bathtub quickly.

“… Stiles.”

The spark smirks and quickly splashes the wolf before grabbing a handful of bubbles and throwing them at the wolf.

Scott screams excitedly and starts splashing too, and it’s all downhill from there. Stiles’ phone ends up being haphazardly thrown into the hall in an effort to save it and Derek ends up slipping off the side of the bathtub and into it. Scott climbs all over him and gets water everywhere and suddenly they’re chasing a naked wolfed out two-year-old around the house.

Stiles collapses on the ground in the living room and lets out a gasp, his chest heaving. “How is he so _fast_?”

Derek gets down on all fours and hides behind the couch. He waits until Scott pauses – sticking his tiny nose in the air to search for Derek, and then pounces. Scott lets out a surprised yelp, and growl, and then laughs when he sees that it’s Derek that caught him. He pats a hand to Derek’s face and says, awed, “Pounce.”

The wolf nods, a faint smile on his lips, and stands up with Scott in his arms. It’s really not fair how easily he gets up without the use of his hands. Stiles needs to work on his core, to be honest.

“Stiles,” Derek says. He must’ve said it a few times before because he looks a little concerned.

“Hm?”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna get Scott changed and then take him to bed, okay?”

Stiles pushes himself up hurriedly. “Hold on I’ll help.”

After everyone has changed into comfier, read: dry, clothes, Scott claws his way into the middle of Stiles’ bed. Stiles lets out a low sigh and makes a mental note to buy new sheets. Once Scott is settled, and strategically cocooned between pillows and blankets, Stiles grabs a book from his nightstand. It’s titled _Max the Minnow_ and it has these ridiculous googly eyes that stay on every page.

Stiles is just about to start reading when Scott practically yells, “No!”

The spark freezes and slowly closes the book. “Do you – not want _Max the Minnow_?”

Scott shakes his head. “You can’t start.”

“Uh…” Stiles scrunches his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“Alpha’s not here.”

Stiles turns around and finds the space Derek had been in unoccupied. He lets out a low hum and then turns back to Scott. “I’ll go get him, okay?”

He exits the room and rounds the corner, entering the bathroom. Derek, for all his grumbling, is sopping up some of the water from their little fight with a dirty towel. The wolf looks back over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow.

Stiles hooks a thumb over his shoulder. “Scott said I can’t start the story without you.”

Derek smirks and turns back to the bathtub. He reaches in and pulls the stop on the drain before saying, “It’s alright. You can start without me.”

“What if we don’t want to?”

The wolf freezes. “We?”

Stiles clears his throat. His voice comes out a little cracked. “Yeah. Pack sticks together, even if it’s just for story time.” He smiles sheepishly.

Derek is silent for a moment, that wide-eyed searching look on his face again. It’s starting to make Stiles uncomfortable. He wants to know what it is Derek is trying to figure out. Finally, the wolf says, “Okay,” and gets up, wiping his hands on his pants.

Stiles sits back down on the edge of the bed while Derek sits across from him on the other side – until Scott starts making grabby hands again. Derek and Scott seem to have their own wordless conversation until Derek settles in beside Scott for story time. Again, Stiles’ chest heats up as that heavy emotion tugs at his heart strings. He needs to ignore it and move on. Stiles can’t keep confusing all these separate lines of Derek that Lydia thinks are intertwined with his own. It’s not like that.

He clears his throat and looks down at the book, shutting out his internal argument, before saying in his best narrator voice, “ _There was a school of minnows, once, that lived within some cracks. The quickest, and most clever one, of all of them was Max._ ”

~

“Stiles, open the door.”

The spark lets out a pained sigh from where he is in the living room. He’s been avoiding just about everyone since Scott turned back into his usual adult self. Part of that is because he’s mildly ashamed – both because he caused the problem and because he couldn’t fix it by doing anything more than waiting. So, he’s managed to sequester himself in his apartment, only leaving for work, and comfort in the wee hours of the night.

But the other reason he’s hiding, _who_ he’s hiding from, is currently at his door right now. And that makes it _pretty_ hard to hide. Especially when said person is a werewolf – one who can hear his heartbeat.

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut and curls in on himself. “Go away, Derek.”

There’s a loud bang on the door, a frustrated knock, and then a groan. “Just – was it something I did?”

Stiles’ heart almost breaks when he hears those words. He knows that’s what’s happening because his heart felt the same way when Derek slept in his bed with him and Scott. His heart ached this way when, the next morning, Scott was an adult again. And his heart throbbed this way when he remembered Deaton’s words about unity and togetherness being the key to breaking the curse. A hot, lone tear streaks its way down Stiles’ cheek. He quickly scrubs it away and says, “ _No_. No it wasn’t – I just want to be alone.”

“Stiles,” Derek says again, more desperate this time, though his voice goes growly toward the end. “I can hear your heart skip through the door. _You’re_ the one who always tells me I need to use my words. If I hurt y– at least tell me what I did wrong so I can _fix it_.”

“There’s nothing to fix Derek!” Stiles fires back, exasperated. He gets up and opens the door, though it halts when the deadbolt chain reaches its limit. “You didn’t do anything, okay? It’s me. I need some time alone. Can you… please.”

Derek clenches his jaw and straightens out. His body is rigid but his eyes are doing a poor job of masking the hurt. Stiles can’t even look, so he just stares down at the metal ridge between his apartment floor and the tiling of the hallway.

“Look at me,” Derek says, voice low and flat. When Stiles doesn’t look he moves toward the open crack of the door and repeats himself. “ _Look at me_.”

Stiles lifts his head. “What?”

The wolf takes a deep breath, nostrils flaring. And then, in a voice that’s just barely above a whisper, he says, “Pack sticks together.”

Stiles flinches and sucks in a sharp breath. “Derek I –”

“You don’t have to let me in,” Derek interrupts. “But don’t lie to me.”

Another tear falls from its perch on Stiles’ eyelashes. His breath stutters for a moment before he closes his eyes and grinds his teeth. “It’s not – I’m not _lying_. I mean, you did do something but it wasn’t _bad_. It’s not like you upset me or something.”

“But you’re upset,” Derek states. Fact, not observation or question.

“Yes but –”

“And it has to do with me?”

Stiles looks up and a faint noise falls from his mouth. “I – yes?” He scrubs a hand over his face and groans. “It’s not your fault or problem okay, it’s mine. And if you give me some space I’ll get over it and myself.”

“Get over it,” Derek parrots. “Get over what?”

The spark’s fingers tense around the door knob. “Der, please let it go.”

“Get over _what_?” he asks again. His eyes follow the length of Stiles’ body and then snap back up. There’s something oddly dangerous in them when he makes eye contact with the spark again. Knowing. “What if it’s something you don’t need to get over?” Derek hazards.

Stiles snorts and has to keep from rolling his eyes. “Even if that were true, which it’s _not,_ and you would agree if you knew, I’m not – I’m not good enough for that.”

Derek raises his eyebrows then. “I disagree.”

“You’re always contrary,” Stiles huffs.

“Let me in,” Derek says, ignoring the comment. He adds, “Please.”

Stiles whines, “ _Derek_.”

“Please,” Derek repeats, insistent.

The spark lets out a noise of distaste and closes the door. He slides the chain off, watches as it clinks against the wall, but rests his head against the door. “Why are you being so persistent?” Stiles asks, irritated, through the wood.

“Because you’re upset.”

Stiles heaves a sigh and then opens the door. Before he can say anything Derek wedges himself into the apartment. His fingers flex at his sides, as if he needs to grab hold of something but he can’t. Stiles looks away closes the door, but when he turns back Derek is closer than before.

He opens his mouth to comment on it, but Derek shakes his head. “I think I know what’s going on.”

Stiles’ stomach sinks and his skin ices over. “Derek, listen…”

“No, you listen.” The wolf takes a step closer. “I – If I’m wrong, if I’m reading this wrong then, then I’ll give you all the space you need. But I don’t think I am.”

The spark closes his mouth and nods ever so slightly.

Derek takes Stiles’ face in his hands, and Stiles doesn’t miss the way they shake, before he gently places a kiss on the corner of Stiles’ mouth. Like a direct press would spell some unnamable fate for both of them. He’s just about to back away when Stiles fists his hands into the bottom of Derek’s shirt, anchoring him in place.

He looks up from Derek’s mouth and into his eyes, hesitant and confused. Not that Lydia hadn’t made it all too evident that Derek had _some_ sort of feelings for Stiles. But hearing and experiencing are two different things.

Stiles gives another nod, too busy thinking to speak, and Derek leans in again. This time he presses his lips directly to Stiles’, and Stiles makes sure to reciprocate. He moves his hands up Derek’s sides and pulls him closer, tilting his head to get a better angle. Derek backs away, and Stiles’ lips follow their warmth for one more touch.

Opening his eyes, Stiles says, “I’m not very good at this.”

The wolf strokes his thumb across Stiles’ chin and replies, “Neither am I.”

“I’m a mess.”

“So am I,” Derek counters.

Stiles lets out a humorless laugh and hides his face in Derek’s neck. The moment stretches out and another tear slips past Stiles’ guard. “I could hurt you.”

Derek’s hand falls to Stiles’ neck, his thumb skating over the pulse point. “Are we stating facts, or having a conversation.” He nudges Stiles until he looks up and says, “There’s risk involved in everything. You’re one I’m willing to take.”

Stiles closes his eyes and scrunches his eyebrows. “I really _really_ hate how level headed you’ve become these past few years.” He opens his eyes and glares at the wolf. “Do you know how hard that makes being – having you here, all day, for a week was torture.”

Derek smirks and dries the path the tear made on Stiles’ cheek. “You think I don’t feel the same way.” Another statement.

“I – ugh, I don’t know _what_ to think right now.”

“We’re bad at this.”

Stiles stifles a laugh in Derek’s neck and then sighs. “Maybe we can be bad at this together.”

Derek massages the back of Stiles’ neck and breathes him in before saying, “If you’ll have me.”

“That’s pretty much all I’ve wanted since I walked in on you humming lullabies to Scott.”

After pressing a kiss to Stiles’ temple, Derek says, “Idiot,” and it’s disgustingly fond. “I thought I was being obvious.”

Stiles pinches him in the side and nips at his neck. “You know better than anyone how well I can ignore very obvious signs for the sake of self-preservation.”

“Yeah, well when you’re complaining about how long ago we could’ve been making out, remember that you only have yourself to blame,” Derek mutters.

“You could’ve made a move!”

Derek lifts an eyebrow. “I _have_.”

Stiles splutters, “Wha – when?”

Derek backs away, amazement (at Stiles’ obliviousness) etched across his face. He lists out time after time. “I’ve taken you to at _least_ three separate conferences with me when I didn’t have to. The dinner date at _Riccardo’s_? I let you sleep over and then I make breakfast. How much more obvious –?”

“I thought you were just being nice!”

“You would never willingly use the word nice to describe me.”

Stiles smirks and says, “I can think of a few times I’ve used the word nice in a sentence when talking about you.”

Derek’s ears and cheeks go rosy but he rolls his eyes and pushes Stiles’ face. “You’re a dork.”

“A dork that you _like_ ,” Stiles says with a faint smile on his lips. “Right?”

“Yeah,” Derek breathes out easily. “Even though you’re oblivious.”

Stiles groans and pushes Derek aside before trudging to the living room. “You’re the worst.”

“It works for you,” Derek says as he sits down beside Stiles on the couch. He threads their fingers together and then looks at the table where an empty pint of ice cream and a bag of chips lay. He turns to Stiles. “And you say _I_ brood.”

“ _Ughhhh_.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to follow my TW tumblr it's parttimewolf.tumblr.com  
> It's a side blog that's only sparsely updated, but if you want to antagonize me into finishing the fic I'm working on you can get my attention there!
> 
> Also, if you think I should publish said fic chapter by chapter instead of waiting until I've finished the whole thing then you should comment below. Here's a small snippet for you to be the judge:
> 
> Stiles hears one of the many nurses say, “Sir, please try to calm down. You’ve lost a lot of blood and if you keep thrashing around like that you’re bound to tear something else.”  
> As Stiles peeks through the small, rectangular window on the door, he hears the groans of someone else who had previously been overshadowed by the shouting man. He can’t see anyone from where he stands, but what he does catch a glimpse of isn’t pretty. There’s a small dotted trail of blood leading to one of the curtained off sections of the ER, some of it smudged by hurried feet.  
> Just as he leans in to get a better grasp of the situation another loud crash sounds out into the otherwise silent hospital. Shortly after there’s a thud, and then a man rips one of the curtains aside. He’s quite the sight. Terrifying actually, though it’s not his fault. The man’s shirt is torn in several places, he’s covered in blood, and has the infamous 1000-yard stare thing going on. Add all that to the fact that he’s practically crawling away from a nurse, streaking blood all over the floor and, well – it’s something Stiles will probably have a nightmare or two about.  
> “You can’t keep me here! That thing, that thing will find me and kill me. I can’t stay. I can’t – I can’t, I –”
> 
>    
> AKA the "Stiles finds out fic"


End file.
